Safety Blankets and Love
by spnfandom8
Summary: "Did he do something to you? Pretty billionaire or not, I'll kick his ass" she says, dead serious and immediately coming to my defense. "No! No. It wasn't his fault G. I swear." I tell her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back towards me when she goes to walk around, ready to go head to head with Bruce Wayne.


One-Shot

**AN Enjoy. :) **

Jason todd shoves his hands a little further into his pockets, hunching his shoulders a little further forward in his too-big hoodie.

"I've got a friend up there ma'am, I'm not lookin for anything. The security guard already frisked me." I say, hoping that she'll let me through. I know I don't exactly look like the innocent type. Not with my baggy clothes, the bruises and cuts on my face, too long hair and the knife that the guard took from me.

She stares at me for a long moment.

"Go on then, but I don't wanna hear about anything happening because of you" she warns, nodding towards the elevators.

"Thank you, ma'am. You won't." I say, flashing a smile as I take off for the elevator, the smile falling quickly from my face as I turn.

I mutter a thanks to the guy that held the doors for me, not acknowledging him aside from a cursory once-over. Choosing instead to keep my head down and my hands in my pockets.

I ignore the odd looks the man sends me, especially when I get off on the same floor as him, and then begin on pretty much the same path as him.

"You following me kid?" The man asks, spinning around to stare at me.

"No." I tell him, staring blankly now that there isn't anyone around that I need anything from.

"Where are you going? And why are you walking around by yourself in an FBI building anyway?" He asks, and I hesitate before answering him, debating whether or not it's even worth my time.

"I'm looking for Penelope Garcia" I tell him, not waiting on an answer before I begin walking again.

"What're you lookin for Garcia for? Last time I checked she didn't know any kids" he says, stopping me in my tracks. He might be useful after all.

"Do you know where she is?" I ask, cocking a brow.

"Yeah, come on" he says, his face softening as he nods his head for me to follow.

A few twists and turns later finds us in the middle of a bullpen, and it doesn't surprise me in the least to find her in the middle of a group of people, laughing and smiling.

I want to hide myself behind the mans frame, but the last three growth spurts have put me at about the same height as him, and Bruce's intense diet and workout regimens have me bulked out enough that disappearing behind him is impossible.

I blame the hood on the jacket and the growth spurts when it takes a moment for Penelope to recognise me as we approach the group of people.

"Oh my God, Jason?" She only hesitates for a moment before her arms are wrapped tightly around my torso, trapping my arms to my sides and forcing a grunt of pain from between my lips.

"Are you okay, oh my, did I hurt you?" She asks, pulling back from the hug and inspecting me, gasping when she pushes the hood off my head and catches sight of my face in the bright lights of the office.

"You didn't hurt me G, and it looks worse than it is" I reassure her, a small but genuine smile pulling at the corners of my lips.

"What are you doing here? I thought this home was good? We liked him. And the brother. What happened?" She asks, staying within arms reach and completely not believing me when I tell her that I'm fine.

"Nothing. Bruce is fine. Dick is an asshole. I just, I got into a little trouble, got a little roughed up, Bruce got mad and I got spooked. I don't really have anywhere else to go but Roy's, and Ollie would send me back in a heartbeat." I tell her, not wanting to divulge the whole story. She'll be disappointed, and I don't want that.

"Did he do something to you? Pretty billionaire or not, I'll kick his ass!" she says, immediately coming to my defense.

"No! No. It wasn't his fault G. I swear." I tell her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back towards me when she goes to walk around, ready to go head to head with Bruce.

"You'd better not be lying to me little man" she says, dead serious.

"He's good G. I promise. I just got spooked." I repeat. Hoping she understands.

"If I take your shirt off right now? Is it gonna make me wanna go kill someone?" She asks after a lengthy pause.

"Yes" I answer. Knowing better than to lie to her.

"Do you need a doctor?"

"Maybe" I answer, knowing that my bandaging skills aren't quite up to par when I'm shitfaced. And that the injuries are probably a bit past my own capabilities at this point.

"How bad?" She asks, concerned.

I debate how to answer that question and decide that it'll be easier to just show her. And since I couldn't give a fuck about the people standing a few feet from us, I simply peel the hoodie from my torso, knowing that I'm not wearing a shirt underneath.

She gasps, her hand fluttering up to cover her mouth as she begins cataloging injuries.

A glance down shows that the bruises have darkened considerably, originating from around my ribs and blossoming out across my stomach and chest, covering my torso. The cuts that I butterfly bandaged together are still seeping blood, which nobody could see against the black of my hoodie.

I grunt when the material of the hoodie sticks to the sick looking burn across my shoulder, and grit my teeth when I move my recently relocated shoulder.

The cuts are mostly shallow, its the shit going on on the inside that's bothering me.

I know that I've got at least four broken ribs, two cracked, one rib that _grinds _when I move, making me shudder.

I known I broke a few little bones in my hands when I fought back, and my right hand, now forced from the pocket I was hiding it in, is looking more than a little swollen.

The burn is _not _good.

Something in my jaw is clicking when I move it, hurting enough that I don't want to speak.

My knee is about ready to give out, my hip, on the same side, is grinding into _something_ when I walk.

And I'm missing a few fingernails. And while compared to the other injuries, it isn't anything. It hurts like a bitch.

I haven't slept in about two days, and I might still be a little drunk.

I'm a mess.

"Jesus christ Jay, you definitely need a freaking doctor!" she says, her hands hovering over me, wanting to touch, to comfort, but too worried about hurting to do so.

"I'm alright. Long list, easier to show you" I tell her, ignoring the painful clicking of my jaw and the piercing stares of who i'm guessing to be her coworkers.

"_Jason" _she says, sounding wrecked, and i'm immediately sorry, sorry for worrying her, sorry for getting injured and coming up to see her. Sorry for the fact that I still use her as a security blanket, even though I'm well past the age where I need one. Sorry that I came here instead of sucking it up and sticking it out for a few nights on the streets. Sorry for being too fucking embarrassed, like a child, to go back to the Manor after I ran.

I would say it, but I know she'd hate to hear it. She would give me this, almost worried look, and she would tell me that it isn't a problem, that she loves me, that I'll never be a burden. But I know the truth. And I hate it. I hate that I'm so reliant upon the one person that I truly trust. The one person I truly love.

I know that she loves me back, I know that that isn't the lie. The lie is when she tries to tell me that being shackled to a fuck-up for the last four years hasn't been a burden. When she tries to tell me that the love she feels for me, outweighs the bad things that I bring into her life, the horror and the constant worry and just _everything. _Trying to find me decent homes, because her application to be my legal guardian was denied. Taking me to the hospital when I need it. Teaching me how to code, even if I didn't have a knack for it. Loving me, unconditionally. Taking care of me. Worrying about me at every turn. Sending me to a psychiatrist because even I know that there is something wrong with me. Piling concern and pity and love onto me when i'm hurt, or upset, or when I just _need it. _

But Penelope Garcia isn't my mother. She isn't my big sister. She didn't sign up for the job. I stole her fucking laptop and she tracked me down to my apartment, while my mothers current boyfriend was beating the ever loving shit out of me. She called the cops and got in between us, against the orders of the operator, getting herself concussed in the process.

She felt bad for the ten year old fuck-up with the floppy hair and not-so-innocent blue eyes, and ended up stitching us together at the fucking _heart, _refusing to let go, no matter how many times I pushed her away.

"Hey, what's going on in there little man?" she asks, tipping my chin up with a finger and making me look her in the eyes, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Nothing." I answer, ignoring the flash of hurt in her eyes when I avoid talking to her.

She takes a step back, attempting to shake the now solmen air of the room from around us, forcing a smile onto her face.

"Did you get your birthday present?" she asks, changing the subject.

"Yeah. Alf said he'd help me try a few of them out" I tell her, a real smile making its way onto my face.

"And the tee-shirt?" she asks

"World's chillest little brother?" I ask, chuckling and nodding.

"Custom made" she answers.

A few beats pass in silence, nobody saying anything.

"Come on, you really do need a doctor, little man." she says, pulling my hoodie from my hands and into her own, twisting her hands in the sticky fabric as she turns to face her team for the first time since I came in.

"I'll explain later. I'm taking him to the hospital." she says, shaking her head when the guy who was walking up here with me asks is she wants a ride.

"We're good" she says, a placating smile on her face.

We walk in silence out to her car, stopping to retrieve me knife from the security guard and smiling politely at the agent who let me into the elevators.

"After the hospital me and you are going back to my apartment, eating ben and jerry's, and talking. No excuses." she tells me once we're in her car, and I nod, not even wanting to get out of it.

"I've been keeping an eye on your grades, you've been pulling perfect C's for the last seven months." she says as she drives, side eyeing me.

"School's never really agreed with me" I answer

"Bullshit. You have been getting the exact scores in every class you need to barely pull a C. You know what you're doing. You just don't want to be there. It has nothing to do with how smart you are. But between me and you? If anyone in that school had a brain, they could have put that together and realised that you're smart enough to get straight C's on purpose." she says, a secret little smile on her face.

"It has nothing to do with being smart. It's easy, you just have to calculate the score you need to get on every test to set your overall grade as a C, and yeah, i've got to worry about homework and in class work, but those are easy to add into the equation." I tell her, shrinking further down into my seat.

"You are so smart, and you don't even know it" she mutters, sounding upset.

"M'not" I mutter back.

"I'm not gonna argue with you Jay, because it won't make you change your mind. But I will tell you right now, that I'm right and you're wrong and someday you are going to realise that." she says, contradicting her first sentence with her last, making me chuckle.

"You contradicted yourself" I tell her, ignoring the way my back rubs against the seat when we hit a pothole.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, each of us enjoying the comfortable atmosphere. At least until she breaks it.

"Jason. You are the most important person in my life. And I love you. And you are smart. And you are worth every ounce of love you are given, and then some. When I try to explain you to my team, I don't exactly know how i'm going to explain our relationship. We aren't friends, we aren't siblings, and you aren't my kid. You are every single of those things to me, wrapped up in this not-so-little package. I love you, unconditionally, forever, and nothing will ever change that." she says, making my eyes sting with unshed tears.

"Thank you" I murmur, not realising how much I needed to hear someone tell me that they loved me. That I was worth it.

"Anytime kiddo" she says softly, pushing her door open and walking around to my side of the car, helping me out as well.

**AN Thoughts? Good? Bad? Meh? Lemme know what you think. :) **


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